


Changing History

by thedarkeuphie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkeuphie/pseuds/thedarkeuphie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa decides to change the past a bit to try and keep her family safe, along with ensuring Jon wasn't a bastard twice over. She didn't expect the repercussions this will have.<br/>Macenalei is the one who improvised the prophecy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desission made

Changing History

                She’s heard the stories since she was a child thanks to her uncle, and she thinks that changing a few key details that she might be able to save Prince Rheagar from dying at Robert Baratheon’s blow at the Trident. Still some things are unchangeable. Her uncle Brandon and Aunt Lyanna still die, luckily the golden prince and her grandfather live.

A/N: I don’t own ASoIaF G. R. R. Martin does, and the prophecy that I’m using has been extended by Makenalei in ‘The Missing Prophecy’ on AO3. It’s her fic that gave me muse for this.

Chapter 1: Decisions made and History changed

                Uncle Benjen never had the best resistance to alcohol, which was sad given that he was not only a Northerner, but a Stark as well. It was times like these that I, Sansa Stark, was able to get the best stories out of him; and usually they were about Aunt Lyanna, the one that stuck out in my mind though was what happened right before Robert’s rebellion. I never realized that by letting my ‘Uncle Rhaegar’ live that he would hear Old Nan speak the prophecy of the ice princess and her dragon prince.

                You see King Robert started a rebellion to get the woman that he loved, my aunt, back from, the clutches of the evil Prince Rhaegar. Lyanna was set to marry Robert Baratheon, my father’s best friend. He loved her, she did not reciprocate those feelings; though I don’t believe that he ever believed father or uncle on that front. Everything was fine till the tourney at the castle of Harrenhal.

The tourney is where Lyanna and Rhaegar supposedly met and fell in love, where he stole her from her bed during the final night of the tourney. This led to my Uncle Brandon, and some of his friends, to head south and demand Rhaegar release Lyanna. However, the two weren’t at King’s Landing, they had taken off to the Tower Joy in Dorne. The ‘mad’ king, Rhaegar’s father, proceeded to arrest my uncle and his group. When Grandfather heard he went directly to the Red keep in hopes of getting Uncle Brandon his freedom. Upon reaching the capital my grandfather demanded a trial by battle in which he would be my uncles’ champion; this would end up being the last time anyone would see my family members alive, well (for the most part in my uncle’s case,) and breathing. Once entering the throne room once more my grandfather was set ablaze whilst still in his armor. My uncle who had been collared and attached to a restraining device and was forced to watch, his sword placed a foot out of his reach. Desperate to help grandfather he wound up choking himself on said collar.

Their deaths are what had my family joining the Baratheon’s Rebellion, it also is why my parents were wed. Before this point, from what Uncle tells, father had found out where Aunt Lyanna was and had been planning to head directly to Tower Joy when he heard the news of his father and brothers’ deaths. The idea of peace had been forced from his mind, he wanted penance for their deaths, and only the king’s blood would do. For almost a full year Robert, my father, and their allies fought for a full year before the Battle of the Trident; this is the battle that ended not only the war but also the life of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

King Robert dealt the final blow; a single one to the chest. The impact of Robert’s war hammer scattered rubies, splashing the jewels into the river, mixing eerily with the blood stained waters. Battle ending my father having the inclination of sacking King’s Landing decided he wanted Areys' head for executing his family unjustly, and ensure the Iron Throne would be vacant for Robert’s ascension. Seeing that the Lannisters had already sacked the keep for the ‘usurper’ he went to the throne room to see Jaime Lannister had decapitated the ‘mad’ king; I myself would later find that Jaime hated ‘kingslayer’ as moniker of broken vows, and that he hadn’t the slightest inclination that, his father, Tywin Lannister would order the family he’d sworn to protect dead or that doing the right thing would cause himself so much grief. Reaching Tower joy only days later father found Lyanna lying in a bed bleeding profusely from childbirth. Aunt Lyanna died that day making my father promise that he would take care of my cousin Jon and raise him as one of my older brothers. We wouldn’t learn of this event until years after father’s death, and Dany taking the throne.

There has always been that nagging voice in my head that has always said that if I could somehow change the course of my family’s lives; I could save them. Not everyone, but hopefully the ones whom mattered most. Mother, Bran, Jaime, Jon, Robb, and especially father. To do this I’ve got to change whom played the role of my mother, I love Catelyn dearly and shall remember her fondly; but I need to keep Cersei Lannister form marrying Rhaegar and becoming queen. The kingdom will be safer that way, saner. All I had had to do was enlist Brans help to contact four key people in their dreams.

Grandfather being the first, he (if I could persuade him) would marry my grandaunt Alyssa Tully. She’d been set to marry Littlrfinger’s father before she died from a fever caught during winter all those years ago. This political move ensured the Tully connection be strong, and allow my father the Riverland troops when time came. House Tully’s banner does say ‘ _Family, Duty, Honor’,_ Hoster Tully would always put family first, and that included us Starks.

Then would be papa, dreams hinting at what and whom he was to become not only for himself, but also the North. Accepting that he would be, and have to start studying alongside Uncle Brandon for the role, the Lord of Winterfell. Playing events right would be tricky; if not careful father would remember everything from this timeline, and that could cause problems. Done correctly he’d remember nothing and marry Cersei and help change her, fit her into the role I needed her to play. I was also looking out for my family on this front as well. If Catelyn had understood the game she would have lived to see us thriving in Winterfell, but she hadn’t. It’s why Cersei Lannister was to play my mother this time, I needed to know the game earlier.

Following papa was the old lion himself, Tywin Lannister. He would be the one whom could make or break my plans. I can’t tell him what to do obviously, he’s a fully grown man and I can’t stop him from ordering The Mountain from murdering Princess Elia and her children; but I could hopefully get him to agree to a marriage between papa and Cersei. Convincing him wouldn’t be easy, the temptation of being the grandfather of the girl whom outsmarted and outplayed Petyr Baelish would be far too tempting. Then there was Cersei’s madness, he’d not stand for it. Would he prefer Cersei wed Rhaegar? Yes, yes he would; yet with the evidence of Cersei’s madness he’ll undoubtedly accept, he’d not let there be another mad ruler. All fathers love their children, even if they never show it, and Tywin loved power just as much.

Last, yet most certainly not least, would be the golden prince himself: Rhaegar. Staying loyal to the memories of Aunt Lyanna and Princess Elia wouldn’t be hard; the both of the dying would literally kill the man, he’d not likely remarry. Advising him on the battle of the Trident wasn’t something I looked forward too, but it needed to be done. Someone telling him to not get himself cornered by Robert was my only concern, without his death Jon would have a father of his own, and be legitimized one day becoming king, or I hoped. If Young Griff really was Aegon Targaryen then this was all for not, my prayers are that he isn’t. Only Rheagar would be able to tell me upon seeing the image of the so called prince.

This is my plan, now all I have to do is follow through.

 


	2. Reminders and First Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa argues with Bran, speaks with Rickard, and realizes that she may not have had any choice other than ruling over The North. After all not all men are meant to lead, for the best leaders are those who have no real want of it, and Sansa has never really wanted Winterfell to be hers.

“Remind me again why she of all people has to be our mother? Wasn’t Catelyn a good enough one?’ Bran asks again. He’s already had this answered as to why. We, including father and Arya, needed to know the game if we were going to survive. I wasn’t about to have all of us either dead or scattered to the four corners of Westeros, or in Arya’s case the Free cities. If she wound up there on her own anyway I wouldn’t begrudge her a personal journey; but the way she got there wasn’t the most pleasant of ones, and while it had helped her grow, it had killed the person that she had been in one fail swoop. I didn’t want an emotionless shell in the place of my sister this time.

“Because I need to understand sooner Bran,” he gave me an exasperated look, “and do no give me such a look, we both know I speak the truth. Father wouldn’t have died if I’d been a bit more grounded and level headed and if Cersei hadn’t have birthed Joffery,” in truth we both knew that I wasn’t totally to blame for what happened with father; but that didn’t mean that I would feel any less guilty, this is why she is being bound to us. Hopefully with Jaime and Cersei in different places they wouldn’t have to delve to such traitorous depths to ensure their secret remain hidden.

“I just don’t want to see you forget yourself to the game of kings like so many before you Sansa,” I can understand where he’s coming from. Cersei, Baelish, Aerys, and Joffery; they’d all lost who they had been before they started playing the game. Then again maybe Little Finger hadn’t, the game may have cost the man his life, but it had also given the man nearly everything he’d ever wanted. The only facet of his life that he’d never been able to garner was Catelyn’s love, and by the time he could have tried she’d been cold in the ground for well over two years. I wonder if Catelyn would marry Baelish this time since father would already be married and Uncle Brandon dead. “How do you know that this shall work in the first place?”

“We just went over this did we not?” all he has to do is help me show certain events to these four and that should do it. I know three out of the four to a fair enough of an extent, only Rhaegar will be a mystery to me; and even getting through to him through Jon would not be too terribly difficult. Playing upon his grief might be a low tactic, yet it should work like a charm. Rickard would take my advice for our family honor, but also because the North has been isolated for far too long. Father wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter; I wasn’t going to watch him die because of Cersei and Baelish’s scheming. Tywin would be trying to protect the pride and honor that Cersei and Jaime had so easily ruined; Cersei more so than Jaime, he at the very least earns said pride and honor back. He might not be too terribly happy that Tyrion would one day be Warden of the West and Lord of the Rock. Rhaegar gained a whole kingdom and a son, an heir, who would eventually help defeat the White Walkers, “Each respective party has something hanging in the balance, yes including father. I know without doubt Tywin and Rickard will help. Tywin’s all about family and how the Lannister name will be carried on. Grandfather will want to keep his family as safe as he can possibly manage, he also won’t like the obvious threat that Littlefinger presents toward our family. That in and of itself should be conclusive enough Bran.

“Fine,” he sighed again clearly frustrated with me, “Don’t blame me if this heads in a different direction than what you are hoping for,” I gave him a look that clearly said: ‘What the hells are you talking about. “You said not to give you looks so don’t give me one either Sansa. By doing this you’re changing quite a bit and that will result in new outcomes for most of us,” I know this already though. That’s the whole point isn’t it? “Believe me when I forewarn you Sansa that many of these events aren’t going to be to your liking.”  
 "There are days were I wish that I held the same greensight you do,” I say exasperatedly. I hated that these visions he had were never strait forward, always so prophetic in nature.

“You are warg, a far better one than I am, and we each have our talents dear sister. After all Drogon chose you over Daenerys,” which was true. Drogon had picked me over Dany, we still aren’t quite sure as to why this happened, the dragon and myself had bonded before the journey toward the wall. He trusted me enough to allow me to warg into him during the battle after leaving Dany’s side. I’m still not too confident in what persuaded me into going near the dragon in the first place, yet I’m immensely glad it had. Subsequently my marriage to Willas collapsed afterwards, “your talents also lay within court life and culture. It is part of the reason you’ve started this campaign is it not?” nodding in agreeance. Bran was the one whom pointed out that it would be best that keeping North would only hinder the progress I’d made rather than it truly prosper.

“That maybe, knowing what changes are to ensue would make the task more manageable though,” being nervous about this plan was only natural; after all who else would get the same chance as myself? “There is quite the burden on my shoulders to ensure my plan goes without fail Bran; after all it is not just my life that hung in the balance, but several. Don’t mistake me or believe that I misjudge this situation for I know I cannot save every life with this path.”

“Remember that as you head along this journey of yours, and you’ll understand the connection that you share with Dragon with time,” now he gives me a hint at a topic that catches my interest.

“Again with the Mysticism. I don’t fault you, but if I’m going to be lead around blindly I’d rather not be told brother,” he nodded stoically, the same way father used to only without the apologetic smile that I used to receive from papa, and Jon after The Winter Wars, “Now if you would kindly allow me access to Lord Rickard’s dreams before he married his Lady Wife,” I was ready to put everything in motion. Without pause his eyes go white and my surroundings begin to do the same.

Then just as quickly I began to see the Wolfswood and the ancient heart tree; wishing for him to feel as though he had the advantage in this realm I head toward the heart tree. Upon my approach I notice my grandfather kneeling in prayer; maybe Northerners weren’t meant to play the political games of the South. I knew too few lords whom prayed, even if they had not participated in the Winter Wars or committed as vile crimes as Tywin Lannister. My own husband had been one of them, but then I no longer prayed to the Seven; I’d learned to ask for what was suitable rather than lofty, and the old gods tend to give us what we need rather than what we wanted. Either I’d grown careless in my musings or I’d made a sound of some sort for his snapped up with such force and speed it made my head spin.

Standing he looks a bit perturbed, as though not sure what to make of me. Smiling, one of my amicable ones, I approach closer still, “Lord Rickard,” I state with a low curtsy and in a low, light tone.  
 

He’s silent for a turn and then speaks, “I ask for guidance over the marriage with my cousin and they send me a girl no older than ten and nine,” I have to remember that he is of an elder generation and has yet to see a woman act beyond the ‘station’ granted to her; the statement does make me laugh nonetheless.

“Do not presume that my age does not grant me the ability to advise you in this matter young lord,” amusement coloring my tone.

“And what advise could a girl, for that is what you are, advise in a realm in which she has no knowledge of?” if he’d know.

“In that respect my lord you are mistake. I married out necessity at the age of ten and four and eventually fell in love with my husband as time went on, as my mother had with my papa. Only mine has fallen to pieces, and my children and I shipped off to Winterfell without rhythm or reason. My husband has always held a certain fear of the Seven Pointed Star, and being a warg had set those fears alight I suppose,” Willas had hurt our children more so than myself. “I could understand his fear to an extent, after all in the south skinchanging is considered a sin yet my children never will. So rather than fighting his decision I asked our queen to legitimize them as Starks; which she so willingly,” not even two moon turns later he had not only remarried, but gotten a babe on her, forsaking my son as heir to Highgarden. I wasn’t about to mention this though, after what grandfather would want to know how poorly his grandchild and her children turned out for something out of his/her control.

“The ability to warg has always been a trait passed down through the Starks, it is half the reason why the Southron families won’t marry into ours,” it had taken Willas exiling Eddard, Catelyn, Brynden, and myself to realize that. He then started to actually look at my appearance, evaluate me.

“It took my exile from Highgarden to ascertain that,” I would be honest about that at least. I had been the only one to abide the rules of the Seven, but then I was also the one who had stopped believing in anything but the old Gods. Harsher and only giving what a person needed they seemed more honest than the Seven ever had been, “It took some rather hard learned lessons for me to understand that most of what the South believes is nothing more that farces; the Old Gods are the only ones that actually answer prayers, and they give strait forward answers even when the truth isn’t what we’re looking for.”

“Maybe you can help me with my decision,” he states with a smile that reminds me of father’s so very, very much. His physical features may resemble Uncle Branden over father, but the personality was similar to fathers. He turns to look at the Heart tree, “I wish to marry my cousin, and she and I are of similar personalities; yet I feel apprehension about the match as well.”

“I married Southron and was extremely happy,” I still love him. In retrospect Willas would have started looking for a more suitable wife before our annulment had ever begun, “he and I had married because his grandmother set the match,” I had been a pawn to her. To Willas I had eventually become the center of his world along with our children, his exiting out of our lives had hurt deeply, “House Tully would make a good ally,” Catelyn’s family had been very good allies during the rebellion. My grandfather joined forces with my father because he had seen uncle’s death as an affront to his family, to Catelyn, and not any admiration he might have garnered for papa. The words of House Tully are after all Family, Duty, Honor. The king had killed Uncle Brandon, which had upset Catelyn; and while not always showing his children any affection outright, him going to war against the crown had proved just how resounding those words rang. Family before duty, for it is not the duty of a father to get revenge in their Children’s stead; especially their newly wedded daughter, more accurately the daughter whom had married the man who was to hold title of good- brother before that moment, “In times of need they will help if asked. Family, Duty, Honor remember?”

“Who’s to say that I should not marry an Arryn?” Jon Arryn’s sister, Alys, by this point was already married to Elys Waynwood; had been for quite some time. And a lord with the same status as my grandfather would not marry a maid from a lower house, even one directly connected to Lord Arryn.

“Because the only daughter Lord Arryn sired has been married for at the very least five years, and marrying a Royce or Waynwood would be a disgrace upon your family name because those particular houses are lower than what is permitted for the heir of the Warden of the North and Winterfell. The Tully family are of the same status of the Starks and have an eligible daughter just a year or two younger than yourself. This could possibly allow your heirs a chance at surviving the game the Southerners love to play so earnestly,” he didn’t need to know that Uncle Brandon, no matter how he would be trained, would likely die no matter what I did here.

“And you’re certain this marriage will be prosperous one?” there were several I could present, but one more to the information given already.

“I’m most confident that your Tully wife will also help ensure that the North starts to prosper in more than just ruling over the North and raising your children my lord,” I say softly moving closer to the heart tree. Upon closer inspection I realize this is the tree father would always clean Ice at, one of the smaller heart trees. Father’s tree.

“Beautiful isn’t it? Not as old or large as the other main heart tree, but quite the bit sleeker and majestic no?” it’s half the reason father said he polished Ice here. He also said that Grandfather Rickard did so too. Once returning to Winterfell, home, I had run through the entire Wolfswood searching for this very tree to feel papa’s presence, trying to find solace and forgiveness. Rickon and my young Eddard both learning from Tyrion to be proper lords, when my friend could visit. Swordplay with Jon and Loras; Jon whom still commanded the wall and Loras whom been banished there by Dany. Loras would also tell the children stories about his younger years with the family they would never know, because their father saw the gift given to them by the old gods as a punishment for marrying a Northerner. Loras had been shocked at first but understood, where Willas hadn’t, that being wargs, skinchangers, was as much a part of them and myself as being a Stark was. Finally politics for the Southroners favorite game, something neither Rickon nor Daenerys fully understood. Southron courtier like to play sweet to your face and then stab your back. In the game of thrones you win or you die, the words Cersei Lannister told papa so long ago, “I see your family has found peace here despite what has been done to you and yours?” nodding slightly in acknowledgement; however, the smile states a wish of it having not have.

“My mother once told that no Southroner would ever truly understand The North, or its noble families; sans mayhaps the Arryns whom have married a Stark bride from time to time,” Catelyn and Maester Luwin ensured we knew the high houses of Westeros were and which house tended to marry another. House Stark tended to keep with other northern houses and in a way the Arryns were Northern, “She loved my father, yet she never grasped our banner and how it stood for more than just a season,” no mother had never truly understood. Our words were a reflection on how actions must be measured, not only for ourselves, but also those we watch over for the consequences will be catastrophic, “That shall be the largest problem I think, also warging if your children bond with a particular animal.”

“So Direwolves are south of the wall again?” So he knew our houses biggest advantage over the Southroners. Good, it would save us the trouble having wolves already in Winterfell mayhaps.

“Yes and no,” how do I explain this; the memory of Robb, Bran, Jon, and Papa with the dead wolf and our wolves starts to run its course as I’m thinking this. Steeling myself I watch the scene before us unfold; so this is what had happened? Bran, Robb, and Jon had never said where the wolf had been struck. Father was never one to believe in signs and this was a huge warning sign, not going south might not have been an option.

“I’m to take it that all of you sans this dark haired boy the Tully looks run rather deep?”

“No, my younger sister Arya has the Stark looks and wolfs blood,” Arya had always been wild and some still thought that she should have ruled Winterfell in my stead till Rickon had grown. Yet even Arya had to admit that even she had underestimated me while we were younger saying that between us five Bran and I had turned out to be the most life papa. Myself the political player and ruler; Bran the unacknowledged protector, “Jon’s our cousin. Father claimed Jon as his own baseborn in a promise made to someone he held dear to him,” my lord grandfather doesn’t yet know just how wild his only daughter would be; though she did gain freedom running away with Rhaegar. Baratheon made a terrible husband, even if he truly loved Aunt Lyanna, if the way his treatment of Cersei Lannister was proof enough.

“Where did that leave the rest of you then?” he must see the flaw in marrying below the neck too. That’s when each of our histories played out before his eyes without all the nuances. Fathers murder, Robb’s stint as King on the North, Mother becoming Lady Stoneheart. Arya’s journey to Bravos and from there Cat of the Canals. Rickon’s flight to Skagos. Bran becoming paralyzed and the new three eyed crow, true watcher of Westeros, seeing past, present, and future. Finally my own journey from young naïve girl to proficient player at the game I had no real wish in playing.  
Mine and Bran’s were longest, not event wise, but rather in growing into adult minded beings. Bran realizing that not all heroes are meant to be seen or heard, not all knights have shining armor. My lessons were more severe in nature and first hand. Not all beauty comes in one form, and not all valuables shined of gold. We are all players and pawns in this deadly game.

“The two of you learned more in two years than most do in a lifetime,” he didn’t need know the half of it.

“The lessons worth knowing are experienced firsthand,” Bran through trial and error; mine were beatings and sweetly coated venom.

“Seeing what could happen to my family I shall consider your advice,” I truly hope he would. As long as he truly listened I’d feel like most of my debts had been paid; especially to papa, “What was his name? Your father’s?” father always said grandfather had preferred Uncle Brandon, but then what father doesn’t tend to favor the heir.

“Eddard, papa’s name was Eddard. He will be the second son, and known for his quiet and solemn nature. The ‘Quiet Wolf’ they called him in his youth. Papa was loved by the people of the North,” grandfather looked dazed. Before certain questions were asked I continued, “He was murdered for trying to do right unto a friend wronged and for having married a woman coveted by another. I felt responsible long after, even upon learning that no matter the circumstances he would have died all the same,” that had been the hardest truth of all. That no matter what happened papa would have died.

“Rather cruel way to die,” his air and bearing changed with in seconds. From calm, solemn, and saddened to angered, turbulent, and deadly, “I’m not just considering your words, I’m heading them,” the words were cold as ice and Valerian steel; his stature and eyes reflected the cold fury held within. Then realization hit home. It was looking from father’s men and my own men’s perspective. Jon had mentioned that while my looks were utterly Tully, my countenance was that of my father and the Starks that came before us; this is what ally and foe alike see when faced with Stark wrath pure and unadulterated. Dragons might have an all-encompassing and destructive fire; but we wolves have a cold cleansing steel, steel that has tempered the North and made it ours by right, “Thank you m’lady for the assurance that my family shall survive,” with a bow he turned to leave. As he walks away and my surroundings fade to white again I realize that not leading and ruling was never a choice for myself, or even papa. Having armies of men follow my command is in my blood; that icy steel that has always ruled The North and forged what it is today.


End file.
